


Three Shots

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If he backed out of this now, there was no doubt Masters would go around blabbing to everyone he knew that the great Vagabond was weak - and that his weak spot now had a name and a face.</i>
</p>
<p>In order to win a bet and secure a deal with an obnoxious client, Ryan is asked to shoot an apple off the top of Gavin’s head. This wouldn’t have been a problem once - but now that they’re in a relationship, he isn’t sure he can bring himself to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Shots

**Author's Note:**

> This has been posted on my tumblr for a long time, but I never posted it here. Apologies to anyone who's already read it who thought this was going to be something new.
> 
> (For the prompt "You can't protect me.")

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

Ryan grit his teeth as a hand trailed over his shoulder and across his back. Skip Masters pranced around him and plucked up a pool cue from the table, twirling it about in his hands. The young gambler was his usual obnoxious self, with ten pounds of bling hanging around his neck and his shirt unbuttoned right down to the navel. Every time Ryan encountered him his fake tan seemed to get more horrifyingly intense.

“We’re not here to have fun,” he replied stiffly, arms folded. Masters just grinned at him and waved the pool cue vaguely around the room.

“My yacht,” he said cheerfully, “My rules. Come on, Vagabond,” he added, and leaned forward, poking at Ryan’s shoulder - Ryan tensed, grimacing, leaning back away from him - “Loosen up a little.”

Ryan scowled at him, and even if he couldn’t see it behind the mask, Masters seemed to sense his annoyance. All it did was make him laugh as he floated off again, and Ryan let out a huff of annoyed breath as he looked around the yacht.

It was a big, extravagant affair. Everything Masters owned was. Pool tables, dart boards, and tables lined with food and drink filled the room. Large doors led out to the front deck where people lay sunning themselves on deck chairs or sprawled in the little hot tub. The room was crowded with scantily clad men and women hired by Masters for the express purpose of making the place look full, that and a few of his fellow gambling men, not to mention his copious security guards.

And, of course, Gavin, who Ryan turned to now to see him apparently making it his life’s mission to down as many of the free snacks as possible.

Ryan strode over and grabbed him by the arm.

“We’ve been here two hours and all we’ve done is watch him make out with three different people and lose half our money at cards,” he grunted.

“I know,” Gavin replied, rolling his eyes. “But what can you do! He’s in a mood, you know how he gets.”

“How he gets is _stupid_ ,” Ryan said, and Gavin sighed and tugged his arm free.

“You should try these little mini quiche things,” he said, holding one up. “They’re pretty top.”

“I’m not taking my frikkin’ mask off to eat an hors d’oeuvre,” Ryan snapped, and Gavin shrugged.

“You’re missing out,” he replied, and stuffed his used napkin into an empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter before turning his attention to Ryan fully. A slow grin spread across his face. “God, Ry, you look well out of place.”

Ryan shifted uncomfortably. Despite the heat he was still in his dark leather jacket and he adamantly refused to take his mask off. He was sure he must stick out like a sore thumb; well, fuck them all. He didn’t want to be here. This sort of job wasn’t his thing at all. A raid or a hit or any of that sort of thing, that was his business. Faffing about with a bunch of rich party boys - not only did it bore him half to death but annoyed him to hell as well.

“Whereas you fit right in,” he shot back, and Gavin just shrugged. He’d popped a few buttons himself and his sunglasses were shoved up on top of his head. With his gold watch and chain he did look as bratty as Masters, but even so, Ryan couldn’t help but smile a bit fondly. Out of all the prats here this afternoon Gavin was probably the only one he’d ever be able to stand.

“Don’t get on his bad side,” Gavin said. “We need that tank. He’s trying to piss us off by not giving us a proper reply.”

“It’s working.”

“Be _patient_ ,” Gavin said, and leaned in close, putting a hand on his chest and looking up at him with a sly grin. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Ryan couldn’t help but smirk at that. Gavin had asked him to come along today, supposedly for security reasons, but he knew in reality it was because they hadn’t been able to spend all that much time together lately. The Fake AH Crew had been busy as hell trying to defend the East side of their territory from a bunch of newcomers who had just enough men and firepower to be trouble.

The downside, of course, was that having the notorious Vagabond on his yacht had gotten Masters very excited and he had been even more annoying than usual, pestering Ryan with questions and continually challenging him to games of darts, all while refusing to give a straight answer as to whether he’d sell them his recently acquired tank. Ryan would’ve just slotted the guy but he was an unfortunately regular contact and client of theirs, irritating as he was.

Gavin dropped his hand and turned to scan the crowds for Masters, sighing as he spotted him over by the bar, getting another drink. He squeezed Ryan’s hand and pointed.

“Come on, let’s give this another shot.”

Ryan followed along after him as he headed over. Near the bar the rather tuneless rap music that was playing across the whole yacht was particularly loud, and Gavin had to practically shout to be heard.

“Hey, Skip, can we have a chat?”

“If you buy me a drink we can,” Masters replied.

“You literally _own this bar_ ,” Ryan began, annoyed, but Gavin shushed him and waved the bartender over, taking Masters’ order before turning back to him.

“You give our proposal any thought yet?” he asked, and Masters grinned lazily at the two of them, leaning back on his barstool.

“I did,” he replied, “And I’m thinking Ramsey’s offer isn’t all that generous.”

“Several million sounds plenty generous to me,” Ryan shot back; Gavin gave him a warning look, but he ignored it. “You’re not the only one who can take your business elsewhere.”

“Aren’t I?” Masters drawled, raising his eyebrows. “It’s not every day you come into possession of a _tank_. I’m thinking Kjellberg can pay me a lot more.”

Ryan grit his teeth; Gavin looked faintly alarmed. Truth be told, they really, really needed this. A weapon that big could secure the side of their territory that was under threat. Not to mention having it fall into the hands of any of their enemies would be unpleasant, to say the least.

“So in short,” Masters said pleasantly, “It’s three million or nah.”

They’d hit their highest bid with him a while back and it wasn’t anything near that.

“We’re offering two million,” Gavin replied, and Masters picked up his drink as the bartender handed it to him, taking a slow sip and licking his lips dramatically afterwards.

“Then nah,” he said, and got up to return to the hot tub.

Gavin and Ryan exchanged an alarmed look before Gavin reached out and grabbed at his sleeve.

“How about a bet then,” he said, and Masters turned back around.

_Clever_ , Ryan thought. Skip Masters was a gambler, and a high-stakes one at that. He’d go so far as to call him an addict; there wasn’t a game he’d pass up - or a bet. Sometimes big things, sometimes stupid things. Either way, he liked to make silly deals. He was certainly rich enough to cover his losses.

“I’ve bet with you before, Gavin,” he laughed. “You never win. It’s pretty boring playing with a loser.”

“You haven’t bet with Ryan before,” Gavin pointed out, and Masters turned, gazing flicking up and down Ryan, who stared coldly back at him. For a moment, he looked interested - but then something else crossed his face, and he shook his head, turning away.

“Y’see, I’m just not feeling it,” he replied, stretching his arms back behind his head before sending them a mean sort of smile. “You’re both entirely too desperate for this tank. A little birdy’s telling me the Fake AH Crew might be on its way out, and you know me. I don’t like being on a sinking ship.”

“This fucking yacht’s gonna be sinking in a minute if you don’t stop fucking us around,” Ryan burst out, stepping forward. It sounded a hell of a lot like Masters was deliberately siding against them here, like he’d already planned to sell the tank off to one of their enemies, and his patience was running thin.

“Ryan,” Gavin said quietly, grabbing his arm and forcibly yanking him back. A moment later, however, his hand settled on Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan couldn’t help but relax a little under his familiar touch. His hand trailed down Ryan’s arm, touching his fingers gently before pulling away, and Ryan felt himself calm, taking a few deep breaths.

Unfortunately, Masters had seen the entire thing. He was watching them both with wide eyes, gaze darting between them curiously before a slow, nasty grin spread across his face. Ryan felt his stomach sink as he suddenly got a very bad feeling about this.

“Now _that_ is interesting,” he said, shaking his head. “Vagabond and Free… there’s a pair I never thought I’d see.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gavin said, a bit stiffly; Ryan felt faintly alarmed. Their relationship - if that was what it was; they’d never really put a name to it - was fairly new and they’d kept it under wraps. No one had ever really had cause to notice it before.

And given the way Masters was grinning wickedly at them now, he suddenly wished it’d stayed that way.

“Don’t be coy, Gav,” Masters said, reaching forward and poking Gavin’s cheek with his usual lack of care for, you know, general societal behaviour conventions and the entire notion of personal space. “I suppose even the notorious Vagabond could fall for a pretty little thing like you. But man, that is _interesting_. I’m intrigued.”

He’d wandered over to one of the buffet tables and was picking through a fruit bowl. As Ryan watched he plucked out an apple, turning it over in his hands thoughtfully before wandering back over to them.

“I think we might have a bet after all,” he said, and Gavin and Ryan exchanged another look, confused and cautious.

Masters came up behind Gavin. His hands descended on the other man’s shoulders, and Gavin jumped a little in surprise. Ryan started forward again, but fell still when Masters just reached up and plucked Gavin’s sunglasses off the top of his head. He reached around Gavin to place them in his breast pocket before settling the apple carefully atop his hair, one hand on his shoulder holding him still the entire time. He looked up at Ryan then, and smiled, something a little malicious in it.

“You’re a good shot, Vagabond,” he said, with saccharine sincerity. “Your reputation precedes you. Hell, not one of us could beat you at darts. Say you stand at that end of the bar, and Gavin here stands up against that wall - reckon you could shoot this apple off the top of his head?”

“What the actual fuck,” Ryan snapped, and Masters laughed, gleeful at having gotten a rise out of him.

“If you win, I’ll give you the tank for the two mil you were offering. Hell, I’ll give it to you for one point five. If you lose…”

Gavin twisted his neck to try and look at him and Masters caught the apple as it fell. He turned Gavin’s head back around with both hands and held it there, holding Ryan’s gaze all the while.

“If you lose,” he continued happily, “No deal. And you pay the cleaning bill, when, y’know. There’s blood everywhere and all that.”

Ryan’s heart was racing. Masters was no threat to Gavin, he knew that; hell, if Gavin wanted to break free from him now he could do it with little effort. But he was still on edge, pumped up at the mere thought that some sort of harm was about to come to him, and he frowned.

“You don’t think I can do it,” he said flatly. Why would Masters take a bet if he thought he’d lose, after all?

Masters just smiled, adjusting the apple on top of Gavin’s head again.

“I think it’ll be fun to watch you try!” he replied, with a mean sort of wink. “I mean, it’s a pretty small apple. Organic, y’know? You’ll have to be very… very… careful.” Slowly, hands at the ready to catch it if it fell, he stepped back and let the apple balance.

Ryan broke his gaze away to meet Gavin’s eyes instead. They were very wide, more startled than anything else, and with a scowl Ryan strode forward and snatched the apple off his head.

“This is fucking stupid,” he said sharply. “I’m not doing it.”

“Ryan!” Gavin yelped, grabbing his arm; Ryan looked over at him again and startled a little as he realised that Gavin was actually giving this idea consideration.

“Not happening,” he said firmly, only for Gavin to snatch the apple from his hand.

“ _Ryan_ ,” he repeated, and Ryan turned to him, glaring down.

Masters began to cackle gleefully, seeming delighted to see them at odds.

“I’ll let you lover boys talk it over,” he smirked. “Not like I’m going anywhere, after all!”

With a sneer he strode off back into the fray and Ryan grabbed Gavin’s elbow and dragged him to a quieter corner of the room.

“This is not fucking happening,” he said, sternly.

Gavin snatched his arm away. “He’s handing us the tank on a damn platter here, Ry!”

“He wants me to shoot that thing off your _head_ , Gav! We’re not risking your God damn life just for some frat boy’s amusement!”

“Risking my life - Ryan, as if you won’t make that shot!” Gavin tossed the apple up and down and Ryan grit his teeth, irked by the mere sight of that stupid fruit. “Look, he’s an idiot. But he’s a _mean_ idiot. He wants to see you squirm just for the laughs and right now you’re giving him exactly that! When Geoff sends us out on these things we represent the whole bloody crew. We can’t look weak in front of him.”

“I’m not firing a gun at your head. If I miss you will _die_ , Gavin, is that not registering in that thick skull of yours?” His heart was racing even faster now at the mere thought of pulling the trigger on something aimed quite literally at Gavin. At the thought that if something went wrong Gavin would be injured, probably dead, at _his_ hands - it was enough to make him shake.

“You won’t miss,” Gavin said firmly. He stepped up in front of Ryan and grabbed his arm, squeezing gently. “I trust you.”

“Well _I_ don’t trust me!” Ryan protested, and Gavin rolled his eyes.

“You’re being stupid. We’re going to do it. We need this tank.”

“Gavin!” Ryan caught his wrist as he turned away, a desperate panic shooting through him. Gavin turned around and his expression softened a little as he seemed to realise that Ryan’s hand was shaking where it held his arm, that behind the mask his eyes were wide with something like genuine fear.

“I don’t want to do this,” Ryan said, quietly, and Gavin bit his lip, looking pained for a moment before he tugged his wrist free and took Ryan by the hand instead, squeezing gently, thumb running soothingly over his knuckles.

“You can do it,” he urged, “I _trust_ you.” And then, after a pause, stiffly, “ _We can’t look weak_ , Ryan.”

It clicked. This was about the tank, yes, but it was just as much about preserving Ryan’s reputation. If he backed out of this now, there was no doubt Masters would go around blabbing to everyone he knew that the great Vagabond was weak-

And that his weak spot now had a name and a face.

If it wasn’t him shooting at Gavin now it might very well be someone else, under _far_ less controlled circumstances. Ryan clenched his jaw, cursing Masters and his stupid games, anger rising up in his chest to replace his fear for the moment.

_Guess there’s no fucking choice, then_ , he thought, and sighed, straightening his shoulders and squeezing Gavin’s hand back.

“Let’s do this, then,” he grunted, and Gavin shot him a small smile.

Masters had been watching them from across the room, and when he saw Gavin striding towards him and Ryan following along behind with his gun out, he let out a loud whoop, clapping his hands together, before hollering for silence across the yacht and everyone to come and watch. The next thing Ryan knew guests and security alike had crowded along either side of the bar area and even the loud music had been turned down.

“Well this shall be a treat!” Masters roared, very excitedly. Ryan suspected by this point he’d had a bit too much to drink. “The mighty Vagabond testing his skills at the risk of his _boyfriend’s_ life.”

There was a series of loud murmurs from the crowd as they stared between them and Ryan scowled. _Thanks, Skip, great job. Just tell everyone why don’t you_. He ignored them, looking down and checking the clip of his gun, his heart starting to pound again as he realised just what he was about to do.

Gavin, on the other hand, was grinning around at the crowds, doing a few theatrical mock-bows as he headed over to the wall in front of the dart board. He pulled out his sunglasses and put them back on. By all accounts he looked totally relaxed, and Ryan knew that he wasn’t all that scared - he’d seen him run out near explosions or into gunfire with barely a flinch before - but he was certainly deliberately putting on a show for their audience, and Ryan knew he had to as well.

No matter his worries or fears, he straightened up, taking a deep breath. Became the confident, impassive Vagabond that he knew they all expected. Masters’ sharp eyes were on him, watching with interest, and Ryan refused to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much the entire situation was getting to him.

“Let’s do this then,” he grunted, and Masters held up a hand and walked over to him.

“Let me see your gun,” he replied.

“I don’t carry around blanks,” Ryan said, but handed it over anyway. Masters turned it over in his hands and passed it back to him with a nod.

“Sure you don’t want to give him a goodbye kiss?” he asked with a smirk. “You know, just in case things go _horribly wrong_.”

Ryan stiffened, but Gavin - who was attempting to put the apple on his head and continually dropping it - barked out a laugh.

“He won’t miss,” he said confidently. “You’ll be down a tank soon, Skip.”

“You might be down a _head_ soon, Gavin, if your boyfriend doesn’t get his hands to stop shaking,” Masters pointed out, and Ryan scowled, embarrassed as all eyes turned to him. He clenched his fists and then in one swift motion brought the gun up to point at Gavin’s head; the entire room fell still and silent.

Gavin had finally got the apple to balance; he stood stock still now. With his sunglasses on Ryan couldn’t see his eyes; he was smiling, but his shoulders were quite tense.

Even Masters had stopped his stupid giggling; he was watching with rapt attention now.

“I’ll give you three shots,” he said, and Ryan gave a curt nod.

He took a deep breath and tried to think of this as just another target. Focused on the apple, not on Gavin’s head just beneath it. Hell, he _knew_ he was a good shot. Knew he could do this. But his stomach was churning and even if he’d steadied his hands and his aim, he had the nervous jitters on and part of him wasn’t quite sure he could pull the trigger.

It was so silent in the bar you could’ve heard a pin drop. Ryan focused, focused, kept the gun steady - too terrified to fire.

But Masters was watching, waiting, and finally - heart nearly stopping as he did it - he pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was deafening in the quiet room and everyone jumped a mile, including Gavin, who flinched so hard that the apple fell to the ground. Ryan’s hands were shaking again as he lowered the gun.

Masters burst out laughing.

“Pretty pathetic,” he said, and Ryan frowned as he realised that he’d missed by a terrific margin. He’d aimed so high that he’d hit near the top of the dart board, too scared of hitting Gavin to go any lower.

“Weak, Ryan,” Gavin called out as well. He was already bending to pick up the apple, but he shot Ryan a smile as he got back in position. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Ryan frowned, not replying to either of them as he lined up another shot.

The first shot might have startled Gavin but he was relaxed now that he knew what was coming, practically sprawled up against the wall with his arms folded. Ryan took a steadying breath and fired again.

Still too high. He knew he wasn’t aiming low enough and even as the bullet hit the wall just above his head, Gavin didn’t flinch, just kept grinning away under those damnable sunglasses.

“Looks like the Vagabond isn’t as good a shot as we thought,” Masters crowed, delighted; the crowd tittered and Ryan clenched his teeth.

“He’s just warming up,” Gavin said, and shot Ryan a double thumbs-up. Ryan couldn’t even bring himself to smile at that. Just took a few more deep breaths, tuning out the noise around him for a moment.

_You can do this. You can fucking do this_.

“We can always call this off if you’re too scared,” Masters whispered. He’d gotten close without Ryan even realising it, so close he could smell the liquor on the other man’s breath and the sickening tang of his aftershave. “Bit disappointing, to be honest. I never thought all it would take was the Vagabond getting cute with some common boy to make him lose his nerve.”

“Gavin’s not common,” Ryan replied tersely, not deigning to reply to the rest of the comment.

“Mm, bleached blond? Looks pretty common to me,” Masters laughed. He nudged Ryan’s shoulder before stepping back. Ryan glared at him, but turned back to see Gavin watching him carefully, obviously wondering what Masters had been saying to him.

The crowd was jeering him on now, calling out their own bets. Most seemed to think he wouldn’t be able to do it. Ryan could sense them steadily losing respect for him - steadily losing _fear_ \- and closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath.

Truth be told, until this moment he hadn’t realised quite how much the change in his relationship with Gavin had started compromising him. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t cared about him for a long time - cared about everyone in the crew - but honestly, if it was Ray or Michael or even Geoff standing there waiting for him to shoot at them, he’d probably be a hell of a lot more confident in his ability to make the shot without hurting them.

“Don’t have all day, Ryan,” Gavin called out, and Ryan’s eyes snapped open. Gavin was smiling again, but more gently this time. Not for the crowds but for him, and Ryan nodded slowly and raised his arm. He tuned out the noise of the others, of Masters jeering beside him.

_You can do it._

He focused on nothing but the apple. Forced himself to trust his experience and aim lower. _You won’t hit him. You won’t hit him_. Gavin was still smiling away, perfectly still, and - holding his breath, his heart pounding nearly out of his chest - he fired.

The crowd erupted into cheers. It took Ryan a moment to realise he’d succeeded; the apple had exploded into pieces. Gavin slumped back against the wall for a minute before reaching up and touching his head, his fingers coming away sticky with apple juice.

For a second Ryan’s legs wobbled and he thought they’d nearly collapse out from under him. He put it down to the movement of the yacht; he had never felt this suddenly _weak_ on any job before. Masters was watching him, and he straightened up, steeling himself, putting on the cold, stoic demeanour of the Vagabond that was as much a mask as the physical one that he was wearing.

“You lose,” he said, turning to the man.

“I suppose I do,” Masters replied, though he was still grinning. It seemed the thrill of all this was enough to give him his jollies, Ryan thought sourly, despising the man more than ever.

Gavin had wandered over as well. He still had his glasses on and Ryan couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. His hair and shoulders were covered in little flecks of the apple.

“See? Told you he could do it,” he crowed, beaming at Masters.

“Took him long enough,” Masters replied, leaning over and picking bits of apple from Gavin’s hair. “But you got me. I’ll be in touch with Ramsey about the tank.”

“Good,” Ryan grunted, and Masters smiled again. It seemed his thirst for entertainment had been quenched for now; having gotten what he wanted from them he wandered off, bored now and in search of some new amusement.

Gavin let out a long exhale, shoulders slumping a bit, and Ryan turned to him.

“You okay?” he asked.

Gavin nodded, grimacing as he reached up and scrubbed at his hair. The music had started up again, too loud, and Ryan looked around to find some people still watching them. He took Gavin by the arm and led him out to the back of the boat. It was quieter here, the fresh sea wind a blessed relief after a room that had smelled too strongly of cigarettes and perfumed bodies, and he sucked in deep breaths. His own heart rate hadn’t quite returned to normal and he felt shaky and unsettled.

Beside him Gavin made a muffled noise of distaste and shoved his sunglasses back up onto his head, using them to push his fringe back.

“Apple juice does not make good hair product,” he said, and Ryan turned to him. With his nerves settling now his previous annoyance rose back up.

“Don’t you ever fucking make me do something like that again,” he snapped, grabbing Gavin by the shoulders. “Jesus Christ.”

“Ryan…”

“I know we need that tank. But what would I have done if I- If I had missed, if I’d hurt you-” His voice was too loud, too desperate he knew, but he couldn’t stop it, he’d been so _scared_ , and the next thing he knew Gavin was yanking him down into a tight hug.

He hugged back immediately, wrapping his arms around Gavin and holding him tight, letting it sink in that things had worked out, that he was alive and fine. He could feel Gavin’s heart pounding as well, despite how cool he’d stayed the whole time. When they pulled apart Gavin grabbed the front of Ryan’s jacket and tugged him down to kiss him quickly. Even then he didn’t let go; kept their faces close as he stared into his eyes through the mask.

“It’s not just the tank,” he said quietly. “You know that. Ryan… now that we’re together, or whatever, it - we have to be careful. People expect stuff from you, you know that, from me too, and it - it’s dangerous if they start thinking that you’re too soft for me. And vice versa. You can’t protect me, not from everything. Hell, two months ago you would have been able to do that without even blinking.”

“Two months ago we weren’t…” Ryan trailed off, and Gavin smiled a bit.

“I know. And I’m sorry for making you do this today but… we can’t make _this_ a liability, okay? I know that it isn’t and I, I don’t want to _stop_ , or anything, but. We can’t let people see how much we… how much we care. And also,” he added, tugging at Ryan’s jacket, “I’m not as breakable as you think I am.”

“Bullet to the head would break anyone,” Ryan pointed out, and Gavin snorted.

“You’re a good shot. Trust yourself more. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ryan replied, reluctantly. He didn’t like it, but when it came down to it, that was part of the job, the image they had to project, for their own protection as much as any sort of intimidation.

Gavin let go of him and reached down to grab his hand instead.

“In any case,” he said, “That worked out well for us.”

“ _Today_ it did,” Ryan replied grimly. “But next time…”

“Come on. We’ll be _fine_.” He poked Ryan in the chest and grinned. “For someone so scary you don’t have nearly enough confidence in your own abilities.”

“More like no confidence in your ability to stand still,” Ryan shot back. That was a lie; he hadn’t once back there thought Gavin might move and fuck things up, but it was a cover, at least, for his slight embarrassment about how much he’d doubted himself.

Either way, though, that was all fading away as they stood out here, his nerves settling, Gavin’s hand warm and reassuring in his. They were fine. Gavin was fine. Everything had worked out.

“Oi!” Gavin protested, and lunged towards Ryan like he was gonna try and get him in a headlock. Ryan caught him before he could, easily pinning his arms to his sides and pulling him into a sort of bear hug; Gavin squirmed a bit but when he got his arms free he just hugged Ryan back, nuzzling in against his chest.

“You smell like apples,” Ryan murmured, when he ducked to kiss Gavin’s head, and Gavin snorted.

“Job’s done,” he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

But they didn’t, just stood standing by the rail looking out at the waves. Gavin twisted so he was standing by Ryan’s side instead, one arm around his waist, Ryan’s own arm wrapped around his shoulders as they stood in a comfortable silence, winding down after what had been, in Ryan’s opinion, entirely too much excitement. Geoff wouldn’t miss them if they stayed here a while longer, he thought lazily, and with Masters gone and done with it was actually quite nice out here. The air fresh and the music faint and Gavin warm against his side.

“So next time,” Gavin spoke up finally, breaking the silence, “I’m thinking you should throw knives all around me!”

“That’s not funny.”


End file.
